


lower than the sterling

by dansmithism



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: M/M, bad decisions mv universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 05:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20868941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dansmithism/pseuds/dansmithism
Summary: danny gets beaten up and d finds him.





	lower than the sterling

A swiftly kicked boot thumped against Danny's rib cage ceasing his breathing for a few seconds, leaving him just enough time to take a sharp inhale before another kick thumped against his side. Then another and another until the teddy boy thought that he had forgotten how to breathe at all. He felt a hand grab at his hair then yank him upright with a painful snapping motion. He gritted his teeth and screwed his eyes shut, the pulling hurting more than his chest even despite the hard, speedy pounding sensation his heart was smacking against the bones. Why did he have to find himself in this situation? Why couldn't he just leave it well alone? Why did he have to make threats to people he had no business making threats to? Story of his life, really; making _bad decisions_. Maybe that freak on TV had a point. Baggage is bondage... Not that the sentence made any sense. Nothing the freak on TV said made any sense, why would Danny even consider his words being anywhere near the truth? Ah, that's right... He was close to death right now, that was why.  
"Don't fuck wit us, battyman!" Spat a voice right next to his ear. Harsh and angry and deep, making his spine shudder uncontrollably with a sense of fear his face wouldn't dare show. Never. Danny always kept a stoic expression on show, maybe the occasional disgusted sneer, but never anything else. It was nobody else's business how he felt about anything, or anyone. Nothing in his life, or in his head, as far as he was concerned, was anyone's business and he'd be damned if he showed these pricks that he was afraid of them.  
"Get fucked..." He spat, a small amount blood spraying all over the place. "... Cunt."  
_Let's check that attitude!_ Rang through his brain as he felt a fist smack him square in the nose, making breathing even harder for him. Regret writhed around in his digestive system but if Danny was anything, he wasn't a quitter. Besides, he didn't appreciate having a gang of twats hanging around in his diner that were apparently hellbent on making his shift as difficult as possible. Well shit was it a difficult shift now. Not even a coked up TV personality would pay for a burger smothered in the cook's own blood.  
"What didjya say, man? Couldn't hear ya." Teased his attacker, garnering a loud cackling from his hench-hyenas. Oh Christ did the fry cook wish he had the energy to at least start fighting back but, as usual, his bark was worse than his bite and his sharpened silver tongue had gotten him into some boiling hot water and there was absolutely no hope of getting out. Shit, if this was how he was going to die then bring it on. Death by homophobic Clapham Common hyenas was probably more honourable than a suicide in his basement flat. ...Right?  
With another punch to the face, Danny was out for the count, dropped onto the snowy ground like a bag of shit. No surprise. The squeaky toy had lost it's allure and the gang was bored of the blonde diner boy now, so they took his wallet and his phone from his pockets then took off; cackling into the night as they ran further and further into the darkness.   
"Cunts." He spat again, regretting the decision to speak the second his vocal and facial muscles began making the initial motions.

x x x x x x x 

When he had finally come back to reality, Danny decided that he would chuck out any stragglers in the diner and lock up early. The boss wouldn't care, he was hardly ever there in the first place. Besides, the night shift was Danny's territory - not even the boss fucked with that system. At least, not without asking Danny first or else face a temper tantrum so fierce that it required a full order of new plates and an entire team to clean up the raging typhoon that was the teddy boy's erupted temper. With the diner securely locked, Danny sighed, brushed back his blonde locks then went around to the back to hide between two big red Biffa bins so that he could collapse into a heap and let everything out while he wasted a cigarette. The frustration, regret, self-loathing and pain was all too much to hold in all the way home and no amount of snow could bury or freeze it, either. He was better off hiding in his shitty den and letting it out there instead. That would give him time to get back to himself before he would set off for the last tube home. Failing that, he could catch two night buses back to the untidy square bedsit that was infected with rising damp that he called home. Besides, this was better than having his nosy fucking landlord, Daniel, sticking his oar in and making his mood so much worse. The old geezer could get his gossip from his soaps instead the idle, lazy-eyed bastard and his stupid, feral mongrel of a dog.   
Better to be alone and cry than have people watch him doing it, after all.   
"Fuck!" He screeched into the quiet, kicking at a glass bottle that had been lying by his foot. It scraped along the ground and hit something with a quiet pat, not that Danny noticed - his eyes were fixed on the cigarette vibrating between his fingers as he tried, and just about succeeded, to take a drag off of it. He needed to get some fucking sleep. Take a month off and sleep through most of it. Being in an induced coma might actually fix everything that was wrong with him. At least, that was the idea his brain had posed. It was either that or letting it get to suicide again. Fuck that, he was already _feeling lower than the sterling_, he didn't need any more aggro from his own psyche.  
"Oi, this place shut or what?" An unfamiliar voice caught him off-guard and made him instinctively look up at the person from whom it had come from.  
"Get fucked." Spat the teddy boy, having noticed the heavy resemblance the guy had to the hyenas who had beaten him into a showreel of his own life.  
"'Ey, don't get all prissy wit' me jus' 'cause you got your boatrace fucked!" Snapped the skinhead.  
"Get! Fucked!" Danny snapped again, deciding to stand up and throw his cigarette at the roadman that stood, clearly oblivious to the situation that had happened a little while ago. "The diner is shut, you got your answer now fuck off!" He kept shouting, his chest in agony has he screamed and made wild gestures to try and scare the guy away but to no avail. No, the guy that was almost camouflaged against the snow and frost in his shitty pull on Nike raincoat just stood there while Danny raged and threw the biggest tantrum he could muster in his injured form. "Get away from me! Why can you and your stupid gang just leave me alone?"  
The guy frowned at him, apparently confused. "What gang?"  
"You know what gang! The one that did this shit to me!" Screamed Danny, striding into the dim streetlight and stopping just shy of the bottle that lay at the guy's feet.  
"I ain't part of that crew, man... They're a bunch of pussies tryin' to be Stormzy." Snorted the guy, who, in the light, now that Danny could see him better, looked a lot hotter than he had anticipated. _How d'you look so good?_ "They did that shit to you, blud?" The short-lived smile shifted into a look of disgust and a kind of sympathetic despair.  
Danny nodded, sniffed then pulled a new cigarette out, almost dropping the box his hands were shaking so violently. "Yeah."  
"What for?" This guy was asking why too many questions and it was beginning to grate on the teddy boy's nerves.  
"What does it matter what for?" He mumbled, sparking up.  
"Did they take anythin' off you?" More questions. Why couldn't he just stop and go the fuck away?  
"My phone and my wallet. Not that it's your business... _Blud_." Danny retorted, apparently garnering an amused smirk when the sarcastic colloquialism hit the skinhead's ears.  
"What's your wallet look like and what kind of phone?" He asked, apparently dead serious.  
"... Red leather and an iPhone with a red back cover on it." Danny felt shame gargle around in his stomach now.  
"A'right, I'll get them back for you when I catch those pricks in the tunnel into the estate and bring 'em back here for you tomorrow night." A statement so deadly serious it made Danny question why anyone like this would even consider the idea of helping him.  
"Why?" The word dropped out of his mouth like a brick.  
"Because even wit' the cuts 'n' shit, you're pretty uh... Peng, y'know? And I wanna help guys I think are hot, you get me?" Replied the guy, shrugging as he made his nonchalant statement. "Most times it ends with a reward too and I'm not talkin' cheese, fam."  
Danny blinked at him, confused. "... What?"  
The guy kissed his teeth and sighed. "Just trust me, okay? Fuckin' 'ell, you queens are all the same, man."  
"Queens?" Anger bubbled in Danny's chest.  
"Pretty boys, nice lookin', Peng boys. Like you, with the hair and the weird vintage hipster vibe 'n' shit, innit." Elaborated the guy, waving his hand about in a kind of vague gesture at the teddy boy.  
"... So you're not-?"  
"Gonna beat you up 'cause you're a 'battyman'?" The roadman broke into a loud laugh. "Nah, bruv, I _am_ one why would I beat the shit outta my own kind? It's uh... Redundant, innit."   
"If I'm gonna trust you, I need to know your name." Danny eventually came to the conclusion it was better to make yet another bad decision and have the guy go away than make him angry and get worse injuries.  
"'M D." Said the guy, giving Danny a flirtatious grin. "What's your name, sweet ting?"  
"Danny." Replied the teddy boy.  
"Alright. So when I come back tomorrow night wit' your shit, I ask for Danny?" D was moving suspiciously closer within the already confined space between them.  
"Well... Yeah." Blinked Danny still oblivious to what was happening.  
"I'll be round by eleven tomorrow with your stuff." D told him, still wearing that stupid grin on his face. "Don't close up early."  
"I don't-"  
His thought was interrupted by a bittersweet kiss. Bittersweet in the sense that it was both painful and gave him a rush of pleasure before it was cut short.  
D's eyes flickered wickedly at him. "I'll catch you tomorrow, Dannyboy."  
With a wink, D disappeared as quickly as he had appeared in the first place, leaving Danny alone with his thoughts again.

_ So we'll make the same mistakes 'til the morning breaks._


End file.
